


And Then There Was Time

by amidtheflowers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Merlin (TV), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gift Fic, Time Travel, Well - Freeform, birthday fic, how do i even tag all that is in this fic, it does follow canon to a point, it's almost a retcon, partially canon universe, partially modern au, sketchy sentient amulets fucking with the camelot and thor universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 16:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidtheflowers/pseuds/amidtheflowers
Summary: Darcy just wanted a drink. She did not sign up for having a cursed necklace drop into her life and fulfilling the prophecies of Camelot, nor resurrecting those who should have died. It ends up happening anyway. Life's funny like that.





	And Then There Was Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leftennant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftennant/gifts).



> Hello! You must be wondering what the hell is going on. 
> 
> I'll tell you what. Leftennant, the ever-beautiful sunflower that she is, bemoaned to me of the very very very niche ship that she started shipping whilst watching BBC Merlin's Mordred be an absolute ray of sunshine. And for her birthday, I have filled her very enthusiastic request. TA-DA!
> 
> For the Merlin fandom that is scratching its head, I know. This is different. But if you're interested in some fun new magical artifacts fucking with timelines and general time travel tomfoolery, I suggest giving this a go. I promise it won't be too grievous of a read.
> 
> For the Darcy fandom, welcome to hell. I'm dragging all of you with me.
> 
> Note: There's some references here to Thor and Avengers dialogue, which I am sure you will spot pretty quickly. I drew inspiration from Doctor Who and Harry Potter for the time-traveling continuity in terms of circular timelines. Some things are gonna seem wonky but it had to be wonky, for plot reasons. I'm stamping this fic with a solid Suspende Ye Disbelief. ;) This work is also unbeta'd, as this was too sudden and too long for my usual betas, and my beta who reads all my weird shit is currently being gifted this fic. 
> 
> Enjoy! xx

**-:-**

**"You can't expect to wield supreme power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!"**

**-** Monty Python and the Holy Grail

**-:-**

**Act I: ** The Amulet Makes Itself Known

**-:-**

Darcy Lewis, still nursing the glass of scotch in her hand and looking intently at the bartender, slammed the glass suddenly on the bar and announced, “Another!”

Then promptly dissolved into giggles.

“You’re plastered,” said the bartender, carefully wiping a glass.

“I think you mean hammered,” Darcy held up a finger gun at him and made a soft _pew, pew_ sound at him, winking when he shook his head and smirked.

“Aye, hammered, smashed, it’s all the same in that I’ll not give you another drink with good conscience.”

“Pfffffffft, nobody needs that. That’s what’s wrong with you...Brits. All manners and no fun…just like my boss.”

“Yes, yes,” he replied, in an overarchingly understanding tone, “your very terrible boss who did you a grievous wrong.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Darcy said, seriously. She licked her lips, and in the moment where her face turned pale and the alcohol had finally reached a not-so-fun part of her insides, Darcy outstretched her arms across the bar and made grabby motions with her fingers. “Dave. Dave, my friend. My mate. Dave.”

“Dan,” the bartender corrected.

“I know, Dave is better. Dave, I think I want to go home now, but I can’t like…remember how to use my phone?”

“I’ll call a cab,” Dan-who-was-not-Dave said as he slid a slip towards her. “That’ll be the tab.”

The numbers on the receipt swirled before her eyes, and Darcy called to Dave as he walked to the other end of the bar, “I can’t read this, it’s not in American!”

Ignoring the round of laughter and booing, Darcy snorted to herself and sorted out the tab. She slid off the stool and put on her jacket, fumbling a little bit as she tried remembering how arms could reasonably fit inside arm holes, then slowly slung the strap of her purse over her head.

Darcy was proud to stumble only a little, a _liiiittle_ , as she walked out of the pub. She could still hear the loud chatter inside, and the cool air from the outside was like a balm to her skin as she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Bits and pieces of the day flashed in her mind, and a lump began forming in her throat. Biting her lip, Darcy let the pleasant haze of alcohol veer her thoughts elsewhere—anywhere else was better, at this point.

Something sharp collided against Darcy’s chest, and made a soft clinking sound as it skidded and fell by her feet.

Darcy’s eyes flew open. “What the…” Darcy’s gaze slowly fell to the thing sitting by her feet. Darcy frowned and glanced along the road, but nobody was there but her. Not that she really noticed, as her eyes couldn’t make out much in the darkness.

Blinking at it with a curious tilt of her head, Darcy started reaching down to pick the thing up.

“Whoa,” Darcy’s right hand flew to support herself against the wall as the world started to shift off-kilter. “Whoaaa, stop spinning, brain.” Darcy reached down again, slower this time, and picked up the thing—which, as Darcy held it up to her eyes as she straightened once more, turned out to be an amulet.

 _Squeeze it_ , a voice said softly.

“This feels weird,” Darcy declared to no one. A droplet of rain landed on the top of her head, and Darcy scowled at the sky. “Well if you’re gonna be like that.”

Darcy wrapped her fingers around the amulet and gave it a sharp squeeze.

Suddenly, the world around Darcy blurred and spun out of control—the wall behind Darcy disappeared, as did the ground, and Darcy gasped for breath as everything got very terrible very fast, until she jammed her eyes shut and fell to her knees.

And promptly landed on soft grass.

_Grass?_

There was a noise. A noisy noise that sounded like it was stilted, far away. Darcy took a shaky breath. The noise grew clearer, and even more clearer, until she heard the frenetic sound of someone whispering over and over, “ _Darcy?_ ”

“Ugh,” Darcy groaned. Slowly peeling her eyes open, Darcy saw that she was indeed knelt on grass. Grass that was not there before, and had been cobblestone in front of the local. Her palms rested atop the grass with one hand curled securely around the amulet.

“Darcy?”

 _“Ugh_ ,” Darcy repeated, closing her eyes. “I am tripping balls.”

“…What?”

The voice sounded uncertain. It was a soft voice, too, if Darcy said so herself. But it was too loud, and that was not doing any good for her roiling stomach.

“Somebody spiked my drink. I dunno how, but they did, and everything is so terrible.”

She felt a hand sweep gently down back in soft, soothing circles. “What did you drink, Darcy? What is happening?”

Darcy groaned again and made an attempt to stand. Whoever was talking to her decided to help, staggering along with her as she tried to get to her feet while simultaneously willing the world to stop spinning.

When it did, Darcy took in her surroundings. Her mouth dropped open when she saw she was nowhere near back alleys waiting for a cab, but was standing at the edge of a forest. Her eyes followed up the height of the trees, taking in their gnarled, twisted appearance with their branches laid bare. She shivered, blinking blearily and wondering how strongly her drinks must’ve been spiked.

“Darcy?”

That brought her attention back. She finally looked upon the owner of the soft voice—and saw a man, not much older than her, with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes that stared at her with obvious worry.

“You,” Darcy said, squinting.

The man gave her a questioning look.

“OH MY GOD!”

The man jumped, startling away from her. “ _What?_ ”

“You look exactly…like…someone I don’t know.”

A beat of silence. Then, the bewilderment swiftly left the man’s gaze. He stared at her blankly as he released his careful hold on her. “You’re drunk.”

Darcy’s eyes widened comically. “How…how very dare. How dare this false and…wrong…accusations.”

“You’re drunk.” He turned away dismissively, and made a huge show of sighing as he walked away. “How you found ale at this hour is beyond even _my_ ability of understanding.”

Darcy shook her head and immediately regretted it when the contents of her stomach threatened to make its way back up. “Who…even _are_ you?”

The man whirled around, and Darcy was caught once more in a piercing, blue stare. “Are you serious, or are you _trying_ to be cruel?”

These, Darcy decided, were too many words for her drunk ass, and did not bother trying to understand them. Instead she brought the hand with the amulet back to her eyes for consideration, and thought maybe if she squeezed it again things would start making sense.

She did not notice the man’s eyes going wide, or the lurch towards her as she squeezed the amulet. Distantly she heard him shout as the world spun once more.

**-:-**

The sound of rain pattering against her window drew Darcy from her sleep. She moaned and buried herself deeper into her pillow, hiking up the blankets over her head for posterity. Everything was pounding and her head was now made of lead and her mouth was dry, tasting like something had crawled inside of it and promptly died.

Groaning, Darcy forced herself to sit up. Burying her face in her hands, Darcy tried to will her brain to stop throbbing.

It did not work.

“Shower,” Darcy mumbled to herself. “Shower will help.”

Forty-five minutes later, Darcy was clean and dressed and grimacing as the coffee machine whirred a little too loudly. She heard footsteps bounding down the stairs, and Darcy flashed a little smile as her roommate pulled up next to her in the kitchen.

“Rough night?” she asked, wincing sympathetically when Darcy made a noise of discontent.

“Em, you don’t even want to know.”

“Shit. When did you get in last night?”

Darcy opened her mouth to reply, but stopped herself.

When _did_ she get in?

The murky part of her brain that wasn’t pounding now surfaced to the forefront of her mind. Dan had called her a cab. She waited for it outside. And then…

Nothing.

“Dunno,” Darcy said honestly. “Probably not too late.”

**-:-**

It was a brisk fifteen minute walk to work, twenty if it was raining (and it was always raining in Glastonbury), and on her walk Darcy usually liked to pretend she was on an adventure grander than the last.

These included, but were not limited to: a warrior marching to a duel, a librarian stealing a tome of great import, a knight storming a castle, or an intern dodging Dark Elves in London.

Today, she was too hungover to conjure such an escape. So she trekked to work, boots squelching on the pavement, and hoped the day would not be as unbearable as it had been yesterday.

“You’re late,” Rhys muttered as Darcy walked in.

“I am not,” Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Tell that to our manager. He’s been asking after you for ten minutes.”

“Rhys,” Darcy sighed, “it doesn’t help that you show up to work ten minutes early. You’re making it suck for all of us.”

Rhys grinned, but the humor stilled when his eyes dropped below her neck. “What’s that?”

Darcy followed his gaze, and her eyes widened. On a silver chain linked around her neck, was an amulet. Embedded with a large, glittering ruby that was probably worth more than a year’s worth of her paycheck, Darcy touched it with tentative fingers.

 _Squeeze_ , a voice had whispered.

“Where did you get that?”

Darcy looked at Rhys. There was an odd gleam in his eye, a look of worry that Darcy did not understand. Automatically, she found herself saying, “I’ve always had it. It’s a family thing.”

Rhys’s eyes flared, and said nothing. Clearing her throat, Darcy tucked the amulet beneath her blouse and shuffled some papers on her desk, getting to work.

Rhys made no further attempt in the day to talk to her, which was new. Ordinarily the kid never shut up, never stopped complaining about the idiocy of their manager let alone the unfairness of the man who ran the company. They usually filled their days with banter and laughter and having lunch together, but today was silent. Today, he only glanced at Darcy and offered a weak smile, one that slipped off his face the second Darcy would look away.

As the shop closed up for the evening, Rhys approached her with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Wanna go to the pub?”

“Nah, not today. I don’t feel like getting soused two nights in a row,” Darcy said with a smile. “You go on, I’ll be off.”

“You sure? Drinks on me,” Rhys grinned.

Darcy laughed. “I’m sure. Maybe next time.”

“Let me walk you home then,” he pressed.

Darcy’s smile almost faltered, but she recovered quickly. “Um, I won’t be going home. I have a…thing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wrapping her coat securely around herself, Darcy walked out of the building and tried not to look back to see if he was watching her.

Once a considerable amount of distance was put between herself and her workplace, Darcy allowed her shoulders to relax. What the hell was that? She tried not reading too much in her coworker’s odd behavior, but it was—no. No, everything was too weird, and that was without factoring the mind-boggling entity that was the necklace. How the hell had that gotten there? She didn’t remember putting it on, didn’t remember seeing it when she showered or dressed—for all intents and purposes it had appeared on its own, chained delicately around her neck.

Darcy reached up to take it off, but found no clasp. Frowning, Darcy tried to pull it over her head but the chain did not go past her chin, and if Darcy were not so determined to think about this in a way that wouldn’t make her seem like Erik-levels of bananas, she might let herself consider that the chain seemed to be _shrinking_ in each attempt to yank it off her neck.

_What did you drink, Darcy?_

“Ugh, get _off_ ,” Darcy hissed under her breath, ducking into an alley. Frustration built up inside her as the amulet steadfastly refused to come off.

“I can help you with that.”

Darcy froze. There at the end of the alley, with his hair wet with rain, stood Rhys.

“Oh hey,” Darcy said mildly. “Don’t you, uh—live on the other end of town?”

“Darcy,” he said in a kind, careful voice. “Are you sure that necklace is yours?”

“What?” Darcy’s fingers fell from the chain.

“It’s not,” he said firmly. “I don’t know how that came to you, you’re not even magic, really, but it did. And…and I’m afraid I have to take that from you, Darcy. I’m sorry, but I can’t allow it.”

“Allow what?” said Darcy. When he took a step toward her, Darcy instinctively took a step back. “What are you even talking about?”

“You don’t have to pretend anymore—I get it. Believe me, I get it,” Rhys chuckled, somewhat self-depreciatingly. “It’s been hard living all these centuries by myself, watching things starting to slowly repeat. But I know now. It’s happening.”

“You should get some sleep, Rhys,” Darcy turned away, dropping her attempt of getting the necklace off. “I’ll see you at work.”

“Darcy, please,” Rhys pleaded, and Darcy paused. He seemed sincere, and was making no attempt to move closer. “I understand more than you realize. You’re frightened, scared of what’s happening. I know how that feels.” Darcy said nothing, looking at him uncertainly. Rhys gestured at the necklace. “I know what that is.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t steal it, dude.”

“No, no!” Rhys made an abortive gesture, nodding in understanding. “That there, that’s ah, that’s the Amulet of Five Thousand Summers. Have you ever heard of it? No, didn’t expect you to. It’s in the archives at work, buried deep. You wouldn’t have seen it as you’re a mortal, but we can go there and I can show you where I hid it.”

Darcy couldn’t help herself; she started laughing. “Dude, you should hear yourself—magic amulet? Hidden archives?”

The look of understanding closed over his face, and his expression hardened. “Is it really that unbelievable? Are you not the same Darcy who is friends with the God of Thunder?”

Darcy’s insides went ice cold. She took a wary step back, eyeing Rhys with suspicion. “How do you know that?”

“Well, is it? You _know_ there’s power beyond earth, that aliens are real who come with their own magic. What makes this so different?”

“What does it matter to you?” Darcy shot back. “Why do you care?”

Rhys closed his eyes, sighing deeply. “Because you—that necklace is going to set off a chain of events that I can’t allow to happen. It’s why I’m still _here_. This is my destiny.”

“Rhys…”

“My name’s not Rhys. It’s Emrys.” He looked at her, his expression guarded. “But I was born Merlin.”

Darcy looked at him incredulously. “Merlin.”

“Yes.”

“As in, _Merlin_.”

“Yes.”

“Where’s your beard?”

“What?”

“Your beard,” Darcy gestured down her own chin in a long, sweeping motion. “Where is it?”

“I—”

“You’re supposed to be old and have this great big beard. You know the expression, ‘ _Merlin’s beard!_ ’”

“Yes I know the expression; I don’t have a beard.”

“Why not? Aren’t you a trillion years old?”

“No—well, yes—”

“You can’t even do your own look right,” Darcy shook her head. “What about the star-speckled robes and pointy hat? Where’s your star-tipped wand?”

“I, I don’t have those and don’t need those,” Merlin snapped impatiently.

“So wait,” Darcy looked away, deeply in thought, “if you’re here, where’s Arthur? Or Morgana, ooh or the Knights of the Round Table? Hmm? Hmm? Camelot? Shouldn’t you be in Camelot?”

“What do you think Glastonbury was?” Merlin folded his arms over his chest.

Darcy’s eyes widened. “ _This_ was _Camelot_?”

“’Fraid so.”

“And you’ve been here all this time, bumming around and not doing anything useful for a thousand years?”

“I have _not_ ,” said Merlin, now clearly annoyed. “Who do you think I work for?”

Darcy’s mouth opened to reply, but she slammed it shut as she turned his words over in her mind. It all came to one screeching realization.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Are you telling me that _asshat_ who we work for is actually a—a modern Arthur Pendragon? Are you shitting me?”

“He’s not an asshat, he’s learning,” Merlin rolled his eyes, “but yes, essentially.”

Darcy frowned deeply. “That bonehead is the same guy who pulled a sword from a stone?”

“That was my idea, really…”

“And it’s not just coincidence his name is also Arthur, then.”

“None at all.”

“So that means there’s an Uther. Oh my god,” Darcy gaped. “The owner of the company is Uther, isn’t it? It is, it’s him. The guy who made me cry yesterday is Uther fucking Pendragon.”

“Sorry about that, by the way…he _is_ and always has been a clotpole…”

“Arthur, Uther…there’s got to be a Morgana, then. And a round table…somewhere.”

“Not—not yet, but you’re going too far ahead.” Merlin shook his head. “Please. Listen to me. That amulet—it’s part of a prophecy and I have lived too long on this damned planet to let history repeat itself. Please, would you take it off and give it to me? So I can keep it _safe_?”

Darcy gave him an odd look, and Merlin sighed. “I see you’re going to be difficult about this. Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Merlin inclined his head towards her, muttered something in a language she couldn’t understand, and his eyes suddenly flashed a bright, blazing gold.

“What’re you doing?” Darcy took a reflexive step back. The gold dimmed from Merlin’s eyes and he stared at her, confused.

“That normally works,” he said, mildly surprised. Frowning, he inclined his head again and raised his arm to outstretch his fingers towards her, and his eyes flashed gold once more. When nothing happened, Merlin was beyond frustrated. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, you know,” Darcy quirked her lips. “Performance issues.”

Merlin’s gaze darkened, and there was one, contentious second when they were both still and staring at each other. Darcy reacted first—spinning on her heel, she darted out of the alley and onto the main road, pushing past people and running at top speed. _Where_ she was running, Darcy had no idea but she’d be damned if she let that stop her.

“Darcy! For god’s sake, _wait!_ ”

She could see him if she tossed a glance over her shoulder. “No!”

“Darcy!”

“You tried to magic me! No way, asshole, stay away from me!”

“You’re making a mistake,” Merlin shouted desperately.

“Welcome to my life,” Darcy muttered under her breath. Her feet pounded against the pavement, crossing streets and dodging traffic until she got into the inner roads where little houses were affixed. When she glanced over her shoulder again, she saw Merlin’s eyes flash gold but nothing happened. He groaned loudly in frustration.

“God damn it, why isn’t it _working?_ ” she heard him exclaim. If Darcy didn’t know better, it seemed like the amulet was repelling his magic and protecting her.

She rounded a corner and knew she’d made a mistake. She landed straight into someone’s back garden, with no other exit than to turn back and leave where she entered. But Merlin was there, panting and exhausted, and Darcy had nowhere else to run.

“So,” Darcy gasped, catching her breath, “you knew who I was all along. Darcy Lewis, friends with the God of Thunder.”

“It wasn’t that hard to find out,” Merlin said, unfazed.

“Well in that case you should _know_ if you lay a finger on me, if you _hurt_ me, I have powerful friends.” _Who haven’t seen or spoken to me in four years. Great bluff, Darce._ “I can call him right now, buddy. I just have to say the words, and I’ll have the God of Thunder kicking your ass.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you; hell, Darcy we’ve worked together! Not all that much has changed,” Merlin said impatiently.

“Except you’ve been chasing me across town and trying to use your magic on me! That’s not what friends do, dude.”

“Just give me the necklace and I will _stop_.”

“Telling me to do something makes me not want to do that thing, you know,” Darcy replied, but inside she knew there was an instinctive pull tugging at her to not hand over the amulet. It was warm on her skin, warm and homely and she knew she could not part with it even if she tried. “And newsflash: it won’t come off anyway. So you’re shit out of luck.”

“Then I’ll have to try everything I can,” said Merlin. His eyes glowed ember and he started chanting something very strange, almost as if trying to summon something.

Fear filled Darcy as the air around her started to whip around. Merlin watched her steadfastly, grim disappointment and guilt clear on his youthful face.

 _Well,_ Darcy thought to herself, _at least this will solve my current career crisis. Goodbye, world._

Just then, the amulet get a distinctive _throb_.

Darcy glanced down. The ruby red was shining brightly, blazing against her skin and throbbing with life. A glance at Merlin told her that he was even more alarmed.

“Darcy,” he said cautiously. “Darcy, don’t.”

 _Squeeze,_ she remembered, and without a second’s hesitation Darcy wrapped her hand around the amulet and gave it a great squeeze. Memories of last night flashed in her mind, coming to the surface and she recalled what her inebriated state made her forget; that she’d done this before, when the amulet dropped on her outside the pub. It all began to make sense.

The world spun and blurred, leaving her breathless and flailing—the last thing she saw, just before the world melted around her, was a great big dragon landing heavily next to Merlin.

**-:-**

**Act II:** The Tale of Mordred

**-:-**

Darcy gasped and staggered as the world tilted into view again. She landed heavily on her knees, bracing herself against the grass as she took several gulps of air. The amulet was still throbbing against her neck, but only faintly so.

Wherever she had landed the air was thick with smoke, with a rusted smell that had Darcy choking. Ashy smoke filled her lungs and Darcy coughed, her eyes watering. Wiping at her streaming eyes, Darcy looked around.

Bodies. Bodies everywhere, upturned, on their stomachs, some burning, wearing chain mail and house crests that she did not recognize. And trails of blood, _streams_ of them. Death was thick in the air, amongst this sea of dead knights, and Darcy retched.

“God help me,” Darcy moaned, wiping her mouth. “This is… _so_ much worse than Destroyers or House Elves. Dark Elves? Give me all the Elves. I don’t want this.”

The sheer wasteland before her filled her entire body with fear. Why didn’t she just stick around where Merlin was? Would that have been as bad as _this?_ Her limbs quaked as Darcy struggled to her feet, covering her nose with the back of her hand and trying her hardest not to vomit once more.

She heard someone gurgling, choking and gasping, and Darcy’s eyes widened. There was a fallen knight a few feet from her who was shifting on the grass, clearly not dead yet. Darcy rushed to him and carefully helped turn him over.

The knight had long hair, blood smearing down the corner of his mouth. Darcy’s hands hovered over his wounds skittishly, not knowing what to do. Before she could say a word, the knight cast his gaze on her and exhaled, long and slow. He was dead.

Tears sprang from her eyes and Darcy looked around helplessly. So many, there were so many…she scrambled to her feet and stumbled along the field in search of anyone else still alive, not considering that this was clearly a battlefield, and that she had stepped somewhere in time that was not her own, all at the doing of the amulet. All she could think of was sparing somebody, _anybody_ of this terrible fate.

She scoured the stretch of land before her but there was none left alive. The amulet had gone silent, and when Darcy was overcome with grief she gripped it tightly and squeezed with all her might. But the world did not shift; she was to stay here.

Darcy’s walked glumly, going where her feet went. Her stockings were now coated in dried blood and the edges of her pencil skirt were caked in grime. Her heels got caught in the mud several times but she trudged onwards, ignoring the sting and the wet.

When she heard a soft sigh, Darcy paused.

She stared out into nothing, listening closely. Another soft, faint sigh carried in the air, and Darcy followed it. The amulet, which had been silent up until now, gave a distinct pulse.

Picking up her strides, Darcy followed the sound and the increasing pulse of the amulet until she stood before a tree. It was large and sprawling, not unlike trees she’s seen during her time in Glastonbury. The amulet pulsed steadily, and Darcy slowly walked around the tree. She inhaled sharply when she saw a fallen knight lying before it.

He was young, his face drawn a little in pain. His hair was very dark and came down in slight curls, framing his forehead. Her eyes slid down to where a gloved hand covered his abdomen, and saw blood spilling behind it and staining his chain mail.

Slowly, Darcy knelt beside him.

She couldn’t really tell if he was alive. His chest wasn’t rising or falling, not even in distinctively painful breaths. Carefully, Darcy brushed back the hair from his forehead and pressed her fingers against his skin.

The man’s eyes opened, watching her curiously.

Darcy inhaled sharply but did not move away. His skin was feverish and slick with sweat, and she stroked his forehead lightly.

“Are you a fairy?” he asked.

Darcy shook her head. “I’m not.” Her fingers stroked back his hair, hoping it was giving him some comfort.

“Are you a siren?”

The corner of her mouth tugged upwards. “No.”

“Oh.” The man did not sound disappointed as he continued to stare at her.

“Why do you think I’m a fairy or a—a siren?”

“You are beautiful,” he said simply, “and I am dying.”

Darcy’s eyes widened, and heat spread across her cheeks. “You know,” said Darcy, “that’s a pretty good line. You tell that to all the girls in your village when you’re on the brink of death?”

A soft huff came from him that was meant to be a laugh, but it made him grimace instead. He pressed his palm harder on his abdomen. “I can honestly say this was the first time.”

“It’s a good one,” Darcy told him with a smile. “You should use it on a pretty girl next time.”

He huffed again. “I don’t think…there are any girls in my future.”

“Pretty boy, then?”

That brought a smile from him, and Darcy didn’t think she had ever seen anything quite so lovely. “You are beautiful,” he said again, and his eyes flickered closed.

“No,” Darcy said hoarsely, her eyes darting along his face. She shook his arm. “Don’t go.” Darcy eyed his wounds, none of them too serious except for the one he was covering with his hand. “Can I look?”

He made no move to stop her as Darcy gently pried his hand away. Warm blood spilled down her fingers from what was inescapably a stab wound from a sword. From the way his blood had collected around him on the grass, she knew it had gone all the way through.

Darcy’s throat tightened, and she felt a surge of anger and fury at the unfairness of it all. To bring her elsewhere, to deposit a godforsaken time-traveling _amulet_ only to ensure that she could do nothing to help save anybody, was too cruel for Darcy to bear.

When his breath started to wheeze and the pallor of his complexion grew steadily white, Darcy declared, “No. Nope. You’re not dying. I’m going to help you. I won’t let you die—just _let me_ save at least one. Please, just one.”

She brought her fingers to the amulet. It glowed at her touch, warm and steady. This time it gave no resistance when she looped it off her head. The glow of the ruby shined on the man’s face as she pushed his hand aside once more. Weakly, he opened his eyes.

“That…” He looked at Darcy curiously.

“Let me help you,” Darcy said. He nodded slowly.

She had no idea what made her do it. It was inexplicable, the thoughts that bloomed in her mind and the motion she saw herself doing. But she did it anyway—with a gentle movement, she set the glowing amulet upon his wound.

The air filled with bright, red light. The man’s back lifted off the grass in an arch, his mouth open but with no sound coming. The air whipped around them and Darcy held her arm up over her face, leaning backwards.

Just as swiftly the air calmed, the light receded, and the man settled back down on the grass. Hesitantly, Darcy reached over and lifted the amulet off of him.

The wound was gone.

“It worked,” Darcy breathed, incredulous. “Oh my god.”

The man was still, and Darcy frowned. “Oh no you don’t. Breathe!” Darcy slammed her fist against his sternum and his eyes flew open, taking great, gasping breaths. He stared wildly at Darcy.

“You,” he rasped, glancing down at himself and finding no wound on his abdomen or his back. “I’m…”

“All better.” Darcy beamed. “You’re welcome!”

“You healed me,” he said, bewildered. “I should be dead. This…is strange magic.”

“Magic, huh?” Darcy bit her lip, thoughtful. “Where are we, exactly?”

The man blinked at her. “The Battle of Camlann,” he said, slowly lifting himself up in a sitting position. “In Camelot.”

Ah.

So that really had been Merlin in Glastonbury. And everything else was real. Not that she hadn’t suspected, but hearing it confirmed was the final piece of proof she needed to be fully convinced.

She noticed he was still staring at her strangely. “What is it?”

“It’s most intriguing,” he murmured. “You show the acts of sorcery but you have no magic. I would sense if you did.”

“Are you magic?” Darcy asked.

The man narrowed his eyes. “Do you really not understand where you are? What this battle was? Why are you here, why did you save me?”

“One at a time,” Darcy held up her hands, and the man’s eyes focused on the one holding the amulet. Darcy quickly looped the chain around her neck again and folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t know why I’m here. I was brought here. I saved you because…well, because I wanted to.”

“Are you a defector from the crown?” he tilted his head, eyeing her interestedly. “What is your allegiance?”

“Funny how none of this mattered _before_ I saved your life,” Darcy snapped. “Look—”

A twig snapped nearby and they both froze.

“Um. We should…” Darcy trailed.

“Leave. Quickly,” the man staggered to his feet, leaning against the tree for a moment. His face was starting to regain color, filling out his cheeks and bringing a new shine to his eyes. “If they find us they’ll kill us both.” He glanced at her and paused. Darcy ticked up an eyebrow when he suddenly tugged off his cape. He held it out to her. “Here, wear this.”

Darcy eyed the cape with distaste. “I’m alright, thank you.”

The man frowned. “If we wish to be disguised, you can’t walk in the state you’re in.”

Darcy glanced down at her clothes and gave him a dry look. “And a great red cape dried with blood is _really_ gonna hide me.”

He said nothing, continuing to hold it out to her. “Fine,” Darcy muttered, taking the fabric and looping it around herself. She took his hand when he offered it and they began to walk quickly, heading to a dense part of the woods and leaving the battlefield behind.

“I didn’t get your name,” Darcy said, wincing as her heels caught against a twig. “My name’s Darcy Lewis.”

“Darcy Lewis,” he repeated, and sounded like liquid rolling from his tongue. The man peered down at her with a great, sunny smile. “My name is Mordred.”

**-:-**

Now Darcy was not well read on her Arthurian mythology—just what she saw in _Shrek the Third_ , really—but she knew well enough that Mordred was not someone to be fucked with.

He was a traitor, some kind of…sorcerer who did a wicked do on King Arthur, and ultimately left to die in his evil, villainous ways.

None of the things she recalled about the legends matched quite with the reality. What was meant to be hard and cold and traitorous was instead a soft, bright disposition with a boyish smile so full of light it rivaled the beauty of a blanket of stars. It caught her off-guard when he shared that smile with her, like she had lit up his entire world.

“So, where are we going?” Darcy asked as Mordred filled a skin with water at the stream they were stopped at. He had stripped off the chain mail, left in a simple tunic instead.

“To find Morgana,” Mordred replied.

“Uh…huh,” Darcy licked her lips. “You sure that’s a good idea right now?”

“She will keep you safe,” Mordred assured her as he passed her the skin of water. “You will be in her greatest favor when she learns how you saved my life.”

Darcy took a troubled sip of water.

“Something is on your mind,” Mordred observed. He took the skin back from her and peered at her kindly. “What is it?”

“You said this was a battle. Don’t you think…maybe…Morgana didn’t make it? Just like you weren’t meant to make it?”

Something flickered in Mordred’s gaze, but it passed too quickly for Darcy to catch it. “She is the fiercest priestess of old,” Mordred said calmly. “Darcy, are you a Seer?”

“A…a Seer?”

“The things you say. I’m sorry, but I can’t help but think you know what is meant to happen here. And the strange way you speak, an accent I’ve never heard. The tailor of your clothing.”

“I’m not a Seer,” Darcy said firmly, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the cape wrapped around her. “I’m just not from here. It’s a very long story.”

“And looks like there’s no time left,” a new voice said, and Darcy and Mordred whirled around. It was a knight of Camelot, blooded and bruised and holding his sword aloft.

Mordred’s hand reached for a sword at his side that no longer existed, grasping uselessly at air. A look of dread crossed over Mordred’s features before turning stonily at the knight. “My fight is not with you. Turn back now.”

“Traitor,” the knight spat. “You probably don’t even remember me. Kingkiller.”

“I remember you,” said Mordred, softly. “Sir James. We fought alongside during a search and rescue, not a few months ago.”

“You murdered your own king. Your _friend_.” The knight looked at Mordred with disgust. Darcy glanced up at him, and saw a look of guilt flicker across Mordred’s face.

“And he murdered me,” Mordred answered, after a moment. His eyes flashed golden when the knight charged and Darcy gasped when the knight flew back from an invisible force, crashing against a tree and falling unconscious.

He ignored Darcy’s bewilderment, and instead said, “Let’s keep moving.”

Darcy followed behind him as they weaved through the woods. “You know, there’ll be more where that came from the closer we get to where you want to go. And _I_ don’t have a weapon, _you_ don’t have a weapon—”

“But I do,” Mordred replied, sharing a secretive smile with her.

“Does that trick work on whole armies?” Darcy challenged.

Mordred paused to ponder that. “I haven’t tried yet.”

They reached a clearing, and Darcy swallowed thickly. “Well, better try it now.”

Mordred went still beside her as they faced a looming army just ahead of the clearing.

“Do you think they’ll be up for negotiations?” Darcy asked.

The slice of an arrow cutting through the air and embedding into a tree by Darcy’s left ear was answer enough.

Several arrows shot at them and Darcy screamed, shrinking back. Mordred held up his hand and the arrows stopped in their tracks, then clattered uselessly on the ground. Panting, Darcy glanced at the arrows and turned to Mordred.

“Yeah, we’re not doing this. Run!”

Darcy grabbed Mordred’s hand and dragged him away from the clearing. She was relieved he did not put up a protest, and was likely thinking over what the next plan of action should be. From what she could tell he did not seem particularly keen on fighting, let alone killing anybody else. She didn’t know if that was always the case or if it was a newfound appreciation for life after having escaped the brink of death.

The sound of distinct shouting chasing behind them gave Darcy enough panic to run faster than ever before, heels or not. “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she whispered, her body trembling with fear. “We’re gonna die. This is how we die.”

“We will not,” Mordred said, with a level of calm and confidence that Darcy found incredible. “Your necklace is glowing again.”

Darcy glanced down, and sure enough the amulet was glowing brightly and starting to pulse. Darcy nearly wept with relief. “Oh my god, _finally!_ ”

Just as a group of knights closed in on them from behind, Darcy squeezed the amulet tightly and sent herself and Mordred spiraling through the fabric of reality.

**-:-**

**Act III:** Out of Time

Darcy was the first to stir.

Bed. She was on a bed. A soft, comfortable bed, with the smell of the lavender fabric softener Darcy liked.

Wincing, Darcy opened her eyes and was relieved to see she was in her bedroom. For a fraction of a moment, Darcy considered she’d just been on one very bad, very long dream, and this was her finally waking up.

That train of thought was cut abruptly when she realized her hand was still grasped firmly around someone else’s. That someone, whose hand was held in hers where her arm dangled off the side of the bed, belonged to Mordred of Camelot, now lying face-flat on her bedroom floor.

Gently she released her grip on his hand and watched it thump on the floor. Darcy groaned as she sat up on the bed, rubbing her temples. The headache from these time jumps was starting to rival last night’s hangover.

Below her, Mordred finally began to stir. She watched as he came to, blinking wearily and rolling onto his back with a groan. “What happened?” he groaned softly, rubbing his eyes.

“We’re in my room, in my home. Far, far away from Camelot.” Darcy glanced down at the necklace and shook her head. “Jesus. Now that’s something I never thought I would have to say.”

“Away from Camelot?” Mordred became instantly alert and sat up. The frown that etched on his face was almost comical as he took in her bedroom. “What are these strange trinkets?”

Darcy licked her lips and slid down on the floor next to him. “Mordred. It’s time I told you what’s, uh…going on.”

**-:-**

Considering the amount of information she had just dumped on him, Darcy thought Mordred was adjusting to it rather well.

He was keeping up a running dialogue of questions, (“Is there really no quarrel at all anymore about magic?” “Nope.” “You’ve met _gods_ from the heavens?” “Yep.” “Is this plastic box enchanted?” “That’s called a laptop.”), even watching with rapt attention as she explained to him how the bathroom worked.

“And that’s how to use the shower. I’ve adjusted the water for you so, feel free to get in once I leave,” Darcy smiled brightly.

“Thank you,” said Mordred, quietly. Darcy shrugged good-naturedly and made to leave, but was stopped by the gentle pressure of his fingers around her wrist. The sincerity in his crystal blue eyes was unmistakable. “You saved my life and brought me to the safety of your world. I am forever in your debt.”

“Forever is a long time,” Darcy replied, smiling a little. He gazed at her, not looking away, and Darcy felt a blush creep up her face. “Go on, then.”

Darcy left Mordred in her bathroom and checked down the hallway. Yep, Emily was out. And if she was still out by this time of the night, it meant she was sleeping over at her boyfriend’s and wouldn’t come back.

Darcy chewed on her lower lip as she straightened her room, pausing in front of the mirror to stare at the amulet. It was silent and cold, not with the slightest glimmer of bright, glowing light. What was it Merlin had called it?  

Darcy made a face just at the thought of him. What an insufferable wart he ended up being.

She heard a thump from the bathroom. Frowning, Darcy stuck her head outside her bedroom door. “You okay in there?”

“Yes, Darcy,” she heard him shout back.

Appeased, Darcy ducked back into her room. Boy had she meddled with history by saving him. Could she _really_ be blamed, though? It was the amulet that had chosen her, refused to leave her, _brought_ her to Mordred and accepted her plea to save him. However the hell _that_ worked. Not only did the amulet appear and work at will, but it had healing properties beyond any realm of magic that even Mordred or the highest of priestesses were capable of. He told her of blood magic and the price of returning something from the dead, and how heavy a debt it was. Darcy argued Mordred had not been yet dead, so the price could not have been the same, but Mordred merely shook his head sadly.

Mordred. Darcy inhaled deeply and ignored the strange feeling that bloomed in the pit of her stomach when she stopped to think about him. But no, it was—it was wrong. Darcy had self-control. _Thou Shall Not Find Arthur’s Bane a hot babe_ —

Another thump came from the bathroom wall that was shared with Darcy’s bedroom, and Darcy frowned.

Ten minutes later, Mordred emerged freshly washed and clad in the breeches he had come with. He was still rubbing the towel on his head when he walked in her bedroom, and Darcy could honestly say she was not prepared for the generous flash of skin from head to hip that she was viewing.

Mordred cleared his throat. “Thank you again for allowing me the use of your shower. It was truly…an experience.”

“Anytime,” Darcy flashed him a smile. Darcy held out a small stack of clothes. “See if these fit? They’re the only things I have that I think would work.”

Mordred smiled, sauntering back in the bathroom to try them on.

When he reemerged, Darcy nodded appreciatively. “Oh yeah, they definitely fit.”

“Thank you,” Mordred said again.

“Are you hungry? I’m starved,” Darcy jumped to her feet and led him downstairs. He was slow to follow, taking in all the bits and bobs, and when they reached her kitchen he was even more intrigued at the burners igniting with the twist of a knob.

Two plates of food later, Mordred set the plate carefully aside and turned to Darcy. “I am…humbled by the kindness you’ve shown me, a virtual stranger to you.” Mordred gave her an emphatic look. “But I must return to Camelot soon, to find Morgana.”

Darcy exhaled quietly, setting her plate aside. “Mordred, I already told you…”

“Yes, you’ve told me the history. We are all meant to die but Merlin survives. Life goes on. But…you gave me another chance at life, Darcy. I want to give the woman who also gave me a chance at life my…my respects, at the very least.”

“And try to save her?”

“Am I so wrong to want to?” Mordred asked. “She was like a mother to me.”

“If you save her, what would happen?”

He looked at Darcy with renewed determination. “The Amulet of Five Thousand Summers returned to this world to give me a second chance at life. What if it will do the same for her? Should we not at the very least _try?_ ”

“Wait, wait, you _know_ what this thing is?” Darcy said incredulously.

Mordred nodded, solemn. “I knew from the moment you first revealed it. It is ancient, old magic. One of the first relics to ever exist, long lost in time. I knew it from folklore but I had no idea of its properties or what it truly looked like.”

“When Merlin realized I had it, he said he needed to take it to prevent a prophecy from being fulfilled. He knew what it was too.” Darcy chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. “But why me? Why am I the one involved in this?”

Mordred stared into her eyes, contemplative. “You have no magic of your own,” he said, finally. “That much is certain. However, you seem…attune to it. Have an affinity for it. Can see it when no other non-magical person could. Perhaps that is why you are the best to wield it—you have no power to exalt, no greed nor magic to covet.”

“I guess,” Darcy mumbled, picking at a thread on her sofa. At Mordred’s persistent look, Darcy sighed. “Fine. If the amulet allows it, we will go back and see what we can do.”

Tentatively, Darcy held the amulet. Flickering her gaze up at Mordred, she quickly pulled the chain up—and was surprised when it came off her head.

Mordred was pleased. “I think this is a sign we are doing the right thing!”

Darcy groaned. “Before we do this, I need some liquid courage.”

**-:-**

Mordred was impressed by the amount of alcohol Darcy was able to consume in one sitting without even showing the slightest signs of inebriation.

This façade, however, crumbled easily when she opened her mouth. Or walked. Both of which were incredibly impaired on her end, and forced them to wait until morning to begin their new quest.

Mordred helped Darcy to her bedroom and carefully tucked her into her bed. She murmured when he brought the blankets up to her chin. For a moment he only stared at her, questions still swimming unendingly in his mind. “What is your job in this new world, Darcy?”

She opened one bleary eye. “Rocket scientist.”

Mordred did not know what to do with that information.

He settled himself back downstairs on Darcy’s sofa, tucking a pillow beneath his head and waiting for morning.

The new world was incredibly interesting, but most of all…it gave him hope.

Smiling, Mordred turned over and fell fast asleep.

**-:-**

“I _did_ advise you not to drink so much…”

“Don’t. Even. Start.”

Mordred took another long drink from his cup. He was positively beaming. “I really enjoy this drink. What did you call it again?”

“Hot chocolate,” Darcy muttered, nursing her own cup of coffee. “I would give you what I have, but I’m gonna start you slow before we get to the stronger stuff.”

“You do know I drink ale,” Mordred reminded, taking another long sip of his hot chocolate.

Darcy did not deign that with an answer.

When they finished their drinks and the bit of breakfast, Mordred and Darcy stood facing each other with the amulet in Darcy’s left hand. She chanced a look at Mordred. He smiled down at her serenely and took her right hand in his.

“Amulet, will you grant us passage to Camelot?” Mordred queried, ever so kindly.

The amulet gave a glowing pulse, and Darcy squeezed.

When the world stopped spinning, Darcy became very cross.

“We’re in the fucking woods again, aren’t we.” Mordred gave her a bewildered look, and Darcy explained, “Yeah, in the year 2017 we don’t care much for propriety and say filthy things all the time.”

“Let us find Morgana,” said Mordred, with what Darcy realized was him doing his utmost _best_ not to burst into laughter.

Halfway through their walk, the coffee was making its presence known in Darcy’s bladder. Bidding him to wait, Darcy made quick business of her bladder needs while squatted behind a tree, then sprinted her way back to where Mordred was waiting for her. When she approached him, he looked like he had just seen a ghost.

“What is it?” Darcy asked, alarmed.

“Did you…” Mordred’s eyes fell to the amulet around her neck, then back to her face. “Have you met me before? Before the battlefield?”

Darcy frowned. “No. I would remember…” But in a true, asshole move on her brain, it flashed bits and pieces of a fuzzy, drunken memory—of Darcy in a clearing near some woods, with trees that sprawled a lot like the ones she stood underneath now, and shocking the living daylights out of a man who look a lot like…

“Ohhhhh, shit. Yeah. I guess I did,” Darcy pondered aloud. “I was super drunk.”

Mordred shook his head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The spot where his finger grazed the shell of her ear burned in the wake of his touch. “My lady, if you continue these habits you will not succeed in your career as a rocket scientist.”

Darcy frowned. “Who said I’m a rocket scientist?”

“You?”

Darcy snorted. “I’m definitely not a rocket scientist. I’m barely even a functional adult.” Darcy glanced around the woods, taking in how night was quickly going to fall soon. “Mordred, I can’t help but notice we are not anywhere near Morgana right now.”

“She must be nearby. Let us continue,” Mordred gave her an encouraging smile and pressed his hand gently on her back, urging her forward. She didn’t mind so much that the hand did not drop immediately.

**-:-**

Morgana, as it turned out, could be found anywhere Arthur or Merlin were. In this case, it was in the middle of the woods at nightfall.

Darcy felt Mordred tense beside her when Arthur and Merlin were visible beyond the trees. Darcy could tell Arthur was fatally wounded, and Merlin was doing his best to keep Arthur comfortable. And there, just within reach, was Morgana prowling in the shadows and getting ready to make her move.

“Morgana,” Mordred whispered softly. He waited, staring intently at Morgana. She was dressed all in black, her hair wild atop her head. Her head whipped around and connected directly with where Mordred and Darcy were hiding.

Arthur and Merlin were all but forgotten as Morgana ran to Mordred. They embraced tightly before Morgana pulled away, taking Mordred’s face in her hands and checking him for wounds. “You died,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I felt it. Arthur ran his sword through you.”

“I live,” Mordred said quietly, his voice thrumming with happiness. “As will you.”

Morgana gave him a questioning look, but Mordred merely stared at her. Understanding slowly dawned on her, and her gaze shifted to Darcy.

“I owe you a debt for saving his life,” Morgana said to her, and Darcy felt the words wash over her like words spoken from a queen, or a deity.

“Anyone would do the same,” Darcy answered, but realized that in this instance, that wasn’t very true.

“There is a prophecy, Morgana.”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, we all know that Emrys—”

“No, not of him. A new prophecy, one about her and the amulet,” Mordred glanced at Darcy, who shifted uncomfortably. “One Emrys was aware of in her world and tried to prevent.”

“I have heard of no such prophecy,” Morgana furrowed her brow.

“Is there a Seer, a Soothsayer we may consult?” Mordred pressed.

“Not here, no. It would be impossible.”

Darcy cleared her throat. “You know, I _do_ still work with him. I could just…ask?”

Mordred shook his head. “No. If you approach him, he will take the amulet from you. We cannot allow that.”

“Then you hold onto it while I ask him. Trust me, I have a plan,” Darcy said resolutely.

Morgana nodded. “Do this with her, Mordred. In the meantime, I will kill Arthur and finish what you began.”

Mordred’s expression hardened. “No.”

“No?” Morgana repeated. “How could you say this?”

“I can. He dies, Morgana,” Mordred said quietly. “Let him die peacefully. He is still your brother.”

“But Emrys,” Morgana said through her teeth.

“Is still alive in our future, and we will not corrupt that. We need him alive for now. Morgana, you do not know what lies in the future. You haven’t _seen_.” Mordred shook his head in wonder. “It is a beautiful world. Beyond your imagination. Go, gather your things and wait for us beyond the wood. We will return for you when you are ready, and take you to the new world.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. _Guess that decision’s been made_. Morgana pressed a warm kiss on Mordred’s forehead and patted his cheek gently.

Darcy took Mordred’s hand and squeezed the amulet, taking them back to their world.

It was nine in the morning, and the amulet ever so kindly brought them to her workplace. They stood just beyond the bathrooms and the broom cupboard. Darcy slipped off the amulet and opened the cupboard door, pointing inside. “Hide here while I ask him.”

Mordred obeyed with question and took the amulet. Darcy closed the door and straightened her shoulders before heading down to where she and Merlin worked.

To say Merlin paled at the sight of her was an understatement. He quite literally _jumped_ from his seat at the work desk and stumbled towards her.

“Darcy,” Merlin said in a breathless rush. “What—how—what—?”

“Yeah, I’m back.” Darcy shrugged. “Girl’s gotta eat, you know?”

“You’re back to work.”

“Yep.”

Merlin shook his head disbelievingly. “What happened to the amulet?”

Darcy pursed her lips. “It sort of…disappeared. Just like how it randomly appeared to me? Yeah. It’s gone.”

Merlin looked at her for a very long time, and she could practically _feel_ him probing whether she was lying or not. She must have been a decent liar, for he sagged in relief and smiled. “That, wow. Is really, really great.”

“Yeeep. Looks like whatever prophecy you were worried about isn’t about to happen for a while. Makes you wonder why it showed up in the first place.”

“That amulet is unpredictable by nature,” Merlin explained.

“What was that prophecy anyway? It has to be big for you to out yourself to me and freak out the way you did. Which, by the way, you still need to make up for being a stalky weirdo and chasing me down an alley. Seriously. And was that a dragon?”

“Yeah,” Merlin admitted sheepishly. “Sorry about all that. I was well and proper scared.” At Darcy’s expectant look, Merlin continued quickly, “Right, the prophecy. It was foretold a few hundred years after Arthur’s death that someone would use the Amulet of Five Thousand Summers and resurrect Mordred. They never found his body, you see,” Merlin shrugged. “So many suspected he had never died, or was hidden safely somewhere so that someone would one day bring him back to life. He would return to the new world, and set in motion a challenge to history—still not entirely sure what that means.”

Darcy, secretly brimming with emotion on the inside that the prophecy was absolutely, one hundred percent correct and entirely about her, gave a wan smile. “That’s really weird.”

Merlin gave a short, startlingly loud laugh. “Yeah, weird.” He looked at Darcy uncertainly. “Are you sure we’re, um…okay?”

“Yep, like crystal. Although, there _is_ something you could do for me.”

“What?”

“You mentioned you have some super secret archive on how the amulet actually works and that you hid it away here somewhere,” Darcy shrugged easily. “That shitty necklace ruined a good two days for me and I’d like to know why. So…” Darcy left the question hanging in the air.

Merlin nodded, understanding. “You want to read about it?”

“I’d really appreciate it.”

“Well…sure,” Merlin flashed her a smile, and Darcy couldn’t help but smile in return at how giddily excited he was. “This is kind of refreshing you know? Talking about this with someone, having someone know what I really am. It’s new.”

“I know right?” Darcy grinned. “Consider this favor number one.” Darcy waved her hand in a shooing motion, and Merlin grinned back and set off to find the hidden archive.

Once he was out of sight and out of earshot, Darcy whirled around and sprinted back to the broom cupboard. Mordred was waiting inside patiently, legs crossed and arms folded as he leaned against the wall. When he saw Darcy open the door a brilliant smile spread on his lips.

“Well done,” Mordred said brightly.

“You heard all that, didn’t you,” Darcy closed the door behind her and crossed her arms.

“I did,” Mordred agreed.

“Just like how you and Morgana were talking without speaking? You guys can…do that sort of thing? Read minds, speak to each other?”

“It has its limitations, but yes,” Mordred nodded. “I assure you, though, I have never searched within your mind.”

“But you’ve heard it before,” Darcy tilted her head. “You’re not telling me something and I know that look. Say it.”

Mordred shifted a little uncomfortably. “You…are a very loud thinker.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “Oh god, I was bluffing. You _have_ heard my thoughts?”

Mordred went pale, but was quick to reassure. “Only a little! It took me some time to silence out your thoughts when you…project them so freely.”

Darcy groaned, dropping her head in her hands. “This is not happening.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. What did you, by the way, um…hear?”

Mordred stared at her for a long moment, and Darcy knew.

_The shower. God damn it._

Mordred’s eyes flickered to the door. “He’s coming,” he said suddenly, and Darcy had less than two seconds to process what he’d said before the door began to open. Mordred started to lift his arm but Darcy moved faster, spinning them around so that Mordred’s back was to the door and Darcy was against the wall—and grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him.

She could feel his surprise, stumbling against her, but his hands felt to her hips and his eyes shuttered closed as he returned the kiss eagerly. She knew he understood the diversion, as childish as it was. It was a ploy, but when Mordred tilted his head and moved his lips against hers, ever so softly and with more heat than Darcy’s poor heart was ready for, it started to feel less and less like something they had to do. Pleasure washed through her as she glided her fingers through his soft, curly hair, pressing that much closer to him and smiling a little against his lips when he did the same.

A throat cleared, and Darcy forced herself to remember where she was and pulled away from Mordred’s mouth. His eyes were burning through hers, the blue now darkened to nearly black. Darcy looked away with difficulty and glanced behind him at Merlin.

“Erm,” Merlin cleared his throat awkwardly. “I have your, uh, archive request.”

Darcy gave him a plain look. “And you came in here to tell me that?”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “No,” he said quickly. “Manager wanted a quick sweep of his office, so…”

Darcy grabbed the broom next to her and held it out to Merlin. Mordred now took the moment to bury his face into her neck, his grip tightening around her waist. Merlin took the broom and murmured his thanks, bidding her goodbye.

“I’ll be out in a sec,” Darcy called, and kicked the door closed.

Mordred pulled away from her neck but did not move, nor did he drop his hands from her waist. Darcy’s heart hammered in her chest as the stared at each other in silence.

The amulet began to glow, and the corner of Mordred’s mouth twitched. “Time to go, my lady.”

Smiling, hoping the dim light hid her furious blush, he held her as she reached up and squeezed the amulet.

**-:-**

Morgana took in Darcy’s shared house with great interest. Then she demanded to go outside.

Morgana walked ahead of Darcy and Mordred with purpose, noting all the changes in Glastonbury where Camelot once stood. “Some things never change,” Morgana wrinkled her nose as they walked down a particular path that smelled distinctly of cow dung. “It has smelled this way for a thousand years.”

Morgana observed the modern dress and the stores, the technology, the lack of guards on each street and the wholly lack of monarchy imposing every move of the citizens. She especially liked the clothes, and wasted no time in transfiguring her current outerwear to match a fashionable blouse and skirt she’d seen on a manikin.

Darcy took them to the pub—a different one than her last—and found herself laughing at their reaction to the food and the drink.

“Do many come to the taverns so freely?” Morgana asked, impressed when she saw a sharply dressed, leggy woman order a margarita. “Does social status no longer…matter?”

“I want to say no, but that would grossly overlook all the other unequal shit happening. But for the most part, yeah! All sorts of people come and go, eat where they want, drink where they want…live where they want. It’s not restricted to royalty or…I don’t know, however things used to be run.”

“The new world,” Mordred said, wisely, and smirked at Darcy.

Darcy showed them how to do shots, and got increasingly annoyed when she realized how little alcohol actually effected them.

“Fucking sorcerers,” Darcy mumbled under her breath.

**-:-**

Darcy insisted Morgana take the bed—after all, it had been a trying day for her, with much to learn and much to recover from. Morgana promised a full day of planning and scheming tomorrow, to which Darcy and Mordred had wearily agreed to before bidding goodnight.

Darcy made the bed for Mordred on the couch before making another on the adjacent sofa. Mordred watched her, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

“Good night,” he said, gazing at her knowingly.

“Night,” Darcy replied, smiling up at him.

**-:-**

Darcy was asleep. He could hear her soft snores from the other end of the couch.

Quietly, Mordred sat up. He closed his eyes, cupping his hands palms-up on his lap. He reached for the amulet and thought clearly, _Let the prophecy begin._

When he opened his eyes, the amulet was in his hands and glowing.

Smiling, Mordred squeezed it hard.

The amulet brought him to a darkened alley before a pub—one that was not dissimilar to the pub Darcy had taken them to earlier. He hid in the shadows, waiting and observing.

Then, he watched Darcy stumble out of the pub and lean against the brick wall, closing her eyes.

He had meant what he said to her when he was minutes from death. She was beautiful. And always would be. Always _deserved_ to be.

There was much he wanted to do now that he had another chance, now that he and Morgana were in a world more tolerable, in a design of fate that started with the amulet that rested in his hands. There was the chance to do things differently, and Mordred would not make the same mistakes again.

With a strengthened resolve, Mordred reared his arm back and threw the amulet, watching in satisfaction as it landed against Darcy and fell before her feet. Disoriented, drunk Darcy glanced around in confusion until her eyes locked where he stood. She did not see him, but it still robbed his breath. He watched her bend down unsteadily and pick up the amulet.

 _Squeeze it_ , Mordred said softly to Darcy’s mind.

When she disappeared, Mordred smiled.

In two days, he would return to Darcy’s apartment in the night, quietly open the door with a flash of his golden eyes, and saunter back to the couch that was made for him to sleep in.

When he settled down, the blankets were still warm. “The new world,” Mordred whispered, and closed his eyes.

Sleeping on the other couch, Darcy snored on.

**Author's Note:**

> That wasn't too bad, was it? 
> 
> I'm a total sucker for time travel stories so I had great fun writing this. I hope you all enjoyed, and most of all I hope the birthday girl enjoyed as well <3


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